


Baby, is this love? (Or is it tachycardia?)

by prettymuchdorian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bossy Stiles Stilinski, Daddy Kink, M/M, Meet-Cute, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymuchdorian/pseuds/prettymuchdorian
Summary: Fluffy meet-cute/porn with plot. No werewolves, no magic. I'll be honest, it's a far cry from the cannon universe, but I'm in love with these characters and wanted to explore this angle. Everybody's grown up, has had some therapy, and has some self-esteem.  A good bit of this takes place in a hospital, but our heroes are staff, not patients.This is the first fic I've written, although I've certainly been a reader for awhile. Feedback welcome!See notes at the end for more information about possible triggers, with some spoilers.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 12
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

Derek’s new coworker is beautiful. 

Derek’s new coworker is beautiful and smiles like the sun, and if Derek doesn’t find an excuse to talk to him, he’s going to--

“Derek?” 

“Uhhh”

“You are Derek, right?,” the new physical therapist laughed (he’s wearing green -- he must be a physical therapist, Derek files away). “And Erica said you have Smith in 314 today.”

“I -- Smith -- yes. He just got back from his CT.” Derek cringed as he stumbled over his words. 

“Is he cleared to get up yet? Scott usually sees him, and he said he was having trouble maintaining systolic blood pressure above the 80s.”

His brain struggled to access this fairly basic information about Mr. Smith, as it was simultaneously cataloguing so many new details, as the stranger stepped closer. His presence was almost elf-like: slight build and about a head shorter than Derek, tousled blonde hair, and his trendy little forest green scrubs. Derek was pretty sure he himself looked just vaguely boxy in his scrubs. How this guy managed to make them look like a fresh fashion statement baffled him.

“...Derek?”

“Uh..no. I mean. Yes. He has an order for midodrine now. Had some an hour ago, should be right as rain, but check his vitals just in case.”

“Perfect,” he said, flashing Derek a big grin that left him stammering out a “Sure, no problem, anytime, glad to help, let me know if you need...anything,” as he walked away.

Derek is officially fucked. Or, more accurately, not fucked, and that’s really the issue at hand. His therapist agreed that he was ready to have a go at dating again after taking some time to get his head right after his last breakup. He’s ready to get back into the dating scene. He just wasn’t prepared to  _ want _ this deeply so soon after he’d ended his personal break from dating. 

He’d just have to pluck up the nerve. He’d catch him while he was leaving 314, and he’d--

“RAPID RESPONSE. RAPID RESPONSE 314!” Derek grabbed the crash cart and dashed into room 314 in time to see Gorgeous New PT hefting an unconscious Mr. Smith from his wheelchair back to his hospital bed, demonstrating a level of skill and strength that Derek hadn’t expected from such a small, young therapist. 

“Derek! His vitals were good sitting edge of bed, but as soon as he hit the chair, he started to pass out. Help me scoot him up so I can put him in reverse trend.”

Derek did as he was told, helping to slide the patient up into a more comfortable position before Stiles started angling the head of the bed down to bring his blood pressure back up, and began taking his vitals again. 

Mr. Smith came around soon enough, and seemed to be no worse for the wear except for perhaps needing a nap.

Hot New Grad followed Derek out of the room, arms trembling a bit, smiling, and shaking his head.

“Hate when that happens! Fuck, that took all of my strength -- I feel all hopped up on adrenaline now."

Derek knew the feeling. Adrenaline running through your veins, making you jump into action before you’re even thinking about what you’re doing. And the new guy had done well. There are risks when you’re pressing someone to get better. Sometimes it doesn't go well at first.

Hot Legolas wiped a bead of sweat from his face and leaned back against the nurse’s station, smiling to himself and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. Brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes, he seemed to relax and come back to himself as he let out a long breath. 

“It’s too early for this shit. I need some coffee,” said...Stiles. Stiles must be his name -- a strange one at that. Derek can see it on his name tag, now that they're standing a bit closer. "Stiles Stilinski," wow, that's really quite a name, "Physical Therapist, Beacon Hills Central Medical Center".

Derek realizes a little late that he's been staring a bit too long at the long line of Stiles's throat, the way his forest green scrub top has ridden up as he leans back on the counter, showing off an impossibly round ass on his otherwise slight frame, slim legs perfectly suited to the skinny cut of his--

"Hey." Oh shit, he was still looking. "Do I have something on my face?" Stiles laughed. Derek could feel his face heat up from embarrassment. 

"No! I, uh, are you new? I haven't seen you on my unit before." 

"Yeah, started last week. Still finding my way around the place. Thanks for your help, by the way."

"Of course! Although I don't know that you really needed it. You seemed to have things pretty well in hand," Derek answered, his eyes straying to Stiles's veined forearms, his strong hands, his--

"Coffee," said Stiles, with a quirk of his lips. "You should show me where it is in this wing. I'm definitely not going all the way to the cafeteria before I see my ortho patients." 

"Yes! Coffee. Right here," Derek stammered, turning towards the nutrition room. He swore internally as he finally punched in the right pin code on his third try, opening the door. 

"Thanks," Stiles grinned, pouring himself a cup of dark coffee and snagging a couple of sugar packets. He paused for a moment, as if he was considering something, then stepped back into the hallway and started moving toward the ortho floor. 

Derek is fucked. He's lusting after some hot little new grad who's just trying to find his way around the building. He's an experienced nurse, he's professional, and most of all, he's 36-going-on-37, and he's not going to creep on some 23yo, no matter if the way he smelled, like sweat and musk and...lavender?, makes his pulse pick up like he’s a horny teenager. 

Who knows if he'll even see him again anyway. It's a big hospital. And Scott usually treats the cardiology floor anyway. This is fine. Totally fine. He's got this under control. 

So what if Derek pictures Stiles with his head thrown back, eyes closed, biting his lip, while he jacks off in the shower that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all didn't think you were in for a slow burn. Cause this ain't it. XD

Derek does NOT have this under control. 

Stiles, he finds out, has been hired on as part of an initiative by the hospital system to improve best practices around rehab delivery in acute care. Apparently his cardiology unit could benefit from increased PT and OT treatments to improve outcomes and shorten hospital stays...or something like that. He might have been distracted by the fact that Stiles had met his eye and given him a little wave and a brilliant smile when they were in the staff meeting about the initiative, among other things, like hand hygiene, cutting down on overtime, etc…

Derek is squinting at some physician's terrible handwriting in a chart -- “We’ve GOT to go digital,” he mutters -- when his stomach does a flip, and he thinks he smells lavender, and...something else. As the memory of Stiles -- propped back on his elbows at the nurses' station, head thrown back and eyes closed, panting -- comes back to him, Derek jerks his head up from where it's bent.

"Fuck!" someone yells in his ear as his head smacks into something -- HARD. Totally disoriented by the sudden turn of events, he turns around to see Stiles clutching his hand to his mouth, grimacing in pain. 

"Stiles! I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were there!" Stiles waves off the apology with the hand not covering his apparently injured mouth.

"S'all good. Looking for chart. M'fine," he winced, giving a thumbs up. 

Derek feels like this is some terrible punishment from the universe for fantasizing about a guy who has to be 15 years his junior, and who was so sweet and earnest that he'd feel like such a creep coming onto him. Fortunately while he’s busy being mortified, the part of him that’s been a nurse for over a decade kicks in. “Here, let me look. Come sit down,” he says, gently guiding Stiles into the empty break room. He thinks he hears Stiles laughing quietly to himself as he pulls the door shut, but who would find being headbutted in the mouth funny? 

When Derek looks expectantly at Stiles’s hand, Stiles hesitates before lowering it to show Derek where he’d busted his bottom lip. Derek had been expecting worse -- it’s really not that bad -- but he knows it has to hurt. Stiles’s eyebrows knit in concern, and he automatically goes to bite his lip, waiting for Derek to tell him the damage.

“Motherfucker!” 

“Don’t bite your lip, Jesus! Here, sit here,  _ don’t move.  _ I’ll be right back.”

He thinks he hears something like a mocking “Don’t bite your lip,” whispered under his breath, and then another “Ouch!” 

Derek comes back with saline, gauze, an ice pack, a pillow case, some water, and some naproxen. Stiles raises his eyebrows in surprise, but holds back any potentially painful commentary this time. “Let me clean where you bit through your lip a bit. It’s mostly just bruised. Just keep it clean, put ice on it, and take an NSAID.”

Stiles lets Derek dab saline on the gauze and press it to his mouth where it had been bleeding a little. Stiles tenses as if expecting it to hurt, but then relaxes as Derek’s gentle touch cleans away the blood apparently without much discomfort. Derek has treated worse wounds, that’s for sure. Derek has...shit. Derek comes back to himself a bit, as the urgency of the moment has passed, and it’s clear that Stiles won’t need stitches and isn’t hurt enough to need to write up an incident report. He watches his hand dabbing at Stiles’s swollen lip, the man’s mouth held open, his eyes fluttering shut -- a look of calm and trust on his face, despite the debacle that just occurred. 

Derek jerks his hand back, flushing as his mind flits to images of a much less clinical nature. “Um, cold pack, here,” Derek stammers, putting the cold pack into the pillow case to keep it from hurting Stiles’s skin. 

“Thank you for your help,” Stiles says with a small smile.

“Well, sorry for busting your lip so you needed it in the first place...Seems like this has been an eventful couple of weeks for your first job.” 

“My first job?” Stiles asks, quirking his eyebrow.

“My fault, I just assumed.”

“What, am I really that rusty after working in an outpatient clinic for a couple of years?” Stiles joked, but it felt flat. His warm, open demeanor began to close off -- his hand automatically reaching up to cover his mouth.

“No!” Derek backtracked. “I mean, you’re just so young! I thought--”

“Hold on,” Stiles raised a hand to stop him. “Exactly how old do you think I am?”

“Um...23 maybe?” 

Stiles face cracked open in a wide grin, closely followed by another “Fuck! Ouch! Gotta quit doing that.”

“Try 32 next month,” he answered. “I’m coming up on my tenth year as a PT, so I better not look like a new grad out there.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Now it’s only fair that you tell me how old you are too, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Clumsy.”

Groaning internally at the memory of cracking his head against Stiles’s face, Derek answered “Thirty-seven.” 

So apparently he hadn’t been creeping on some new grad -- he might have had a legitimate chance with this guy, but instead had given him a busted lip, which, by the way, should NOT have somehow given him a sexy pout, and totally ruined his chances. What are the fucking chances. And now he gets to see Stiles all the time. Fuck.

Stiles must have seen the inner turmoil on his face, because suddenly he said, “Oh! So THAT’S why you didn’t ask for my number! You were being a good guy -- or trying to. I thought maybe you were just straight! Or closeted? Married?”

“What?!”

“You know. Last week after you helped me with Mr. Smith. I admit I do know my angles, but you were looking at me like a hungry wolf stalking a rabbit. I just KNEW you were going to ask for my number, but you didn’t.”

Derek gaped at him. So the innocent, fresh-faced new grad he’d had a guilt-boner over knew exactly what he was doing to Derek -- had been doing it on purpose! -- and apparently doesn’t pull any punches. Derek might be in love. Derek might be really and truly fucked.

“So…,” said Stiles, leaning forward and giving Derek a pointed once-over, “do you want it?”

“W-what?”

“Do. You. Want. My. Phone. Number.” Stiles sounded more amused than exasperated at Derek’s difficulty following this fairly straightforward part of the conversation.

“Oh! I mean. Yes! Yes. Please?”

Stiles smirked at him, snatching his phone from his shirt pocket and beginning to type.

Derek spent the rest of his shift in a bit of a daze. He accidentally smacked his crush in the head. And found out he wasn’t being a creep? And also got his number? He nearly pinched himself to make sure this wasn’t some sort of weird fever dream from working too many days in a row. But he got confirmation that it wasn’t as he pulled out his phone after he clocked out. “Stiles aka Hot Jailbait Ass *angel emoticon*” and Stiles’s number were the first things he saw after unlocking his screen. He nearly dropped his phone in surprise, staring down at it. Stiles was not exactly who he seemed to be when he had his patient-care face on. And Derek liked it. A lot. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really more of a transition than a proper chapter. I promise the porn is coming soon...if you will. XD

"All right," Derek said to himself. "You can do this."

_ Hey. It's Derek.  _

**Hey :D**

_ How's your lip? _

Derek groaned at the picture he got in response: Stiles looking up at the camera, wide-eyed and innocent-looking, save for the fact that he had snapped the photo while sliding a big red popsicle between his pouting, bruised lips. 

**Took your advice, keeping ice on it. ;D**

_ Fuck _

**That's the idea.  
** **But you'll have to wait a couple days.  
Mouth still sore.   
:'(**

Derek always got the advice that you should wait a few days to ask someone on a date after you get their number. That you shouldn't come off as over-eager. But he wasn't about to play mind games. He wanted Stiles to know he was eager as hell.

_ When you work this week? _

**On tomorrow & fri, off the weekend. **

When you off?   
Coffee Friday night? 

**Off at 1630. I'm down if it's at yours.  
Usually too exhausted with the public to be out on Friday night. **

_ Perfect _

**Can't wait :D**

Derek gave a fist pump as he put down his phone. His ears were red from the effort of asking someone out on a date for what had to be the first time in at least a couple of years. But he'd done it. 

Fuck. It dawned on him that Stiles was going to be in his apartment on Friday night. He definitely needed to clean the bathroom. Did he need to change his sheets? Buy condoms? Derek realized that while Stiles was clearly interested, he had no idea what speed Stiles wanted to take things. Since Derek suspected that he himself would be down for pretty much anything, he’d follow Stiles’ lead. He’d probably want to feel things out and get a sense of Derek first anway, being on Derek’s turf. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting to the good part...

Derek took a breath and ran his hand through his hair as he listened to Stiles’ car pull up. Man, it had been a long time since he'd had someone over to his place. Well, other than Erica and Boyd coming over for drinks or one of his sisters coming by to catch up when they were in town. 

His dating history had definitely had its ups and downs. He even had a jilted high school girlfriend who he’d had to get a restraining order against because she threatened to burn his house down when they broke up.

His most recent relationship had lasted a few years and had been pretty serious. Derek and Tristan had even moved in together. He wonders if maybe the restraining order situation had actually been easier. He had still been so in love with Tristan when he took a job in Germany...permanently. Derek knew he'd never move so far away from his family, and he couldn't see doing a long-distance relationship indefinitely. He's just such a  _ tactile  _ person. He likes to cuddle close, getting all tangled up with a lover, even just bury his head in their neck and smell them. He couldn't do long-distance. And it had felt fucking tragic. Thus the therapy. Thus the break from dating. Thus the feeling of being out of practice, like he'd forget what to do when he opened the door. 

Which he should probably do, because Stiles had just rapped on his door, shaking him from his reverie. 

On his way to answer, Derek glimpsed him bouncing on the balls of his feet through the front window, looking tense and excited. 

All right. Let's do this shit. Either it goes well or it doesn't. Nothing wagered, nothing gained, eh? Derek opened the door.

"Hey, Stiles."

"Hey, Hot Dad Vibes -- invite me in," Stiles said, already stepping forward, overtly taking in Derek's slightly graying dark hair, his henley stretched over a muscular chest and arms, and what Tristan had called “the coziest belly in the world”. Derek had initially struggled with the fact that he'd gained some weight over the years...but apparently plenty of queer dudes were into the "muscle bear" look he had going on, and he'd gotten cruised even more often than when he was younger. Stiles had a coy grin on his face and was looking quite a lot more cool and collected than he had through the window moments ago. Derek stepped back as Stiles brushed by him, all lavender and spice, the smell of him almost intoxicating at this close range. 

Derek poured them both some French press coffee as Stiles settled himself on the sofa. 

“I want to marry your sofa,” Stiles announced.

“Oh yeah?” 

“It’s so fucking soooft,” Stiles crooned, stretching like a cat before tucking his legs underneath him and reaching for the mug Derek held out. 

They made some small talk about how Stiles’ shift had gone and what Derek had planned for his days off while they finished off their coffee. The conversation trailed off as they both reached to put their coffee cups on coasters. Derek was trying to decide how to get it going again to avoid the awkward pause when Stiles raised his eyebrow in invitation, motioning towards the empty seat next to him.

Derek sat next to Stiles -- close, but trying to give him some breathing room. So of course Stiles untucked his legs and draped them over Derek’s lap -- at once silly and provocative, somehow. He let his hand wander up to Stiles’ thigh, fingers grazing the thin fabric of his leggings. Stiles was dressed for all the world like he'd come straight from barre class, wearing an over-sized t-shirt and leggings. Stiles closed his eyes for a moment in pleasure, and then leaned in so his lips brushed Derek’s ear. “Do you want to touch me? Because I really want you to touch me,” he breathed. 

As soon as Derek answered with a "Fuck yes," Stiles moved all at once to straddle Derek’s lap, pulling his thin t-shirt off in one quick motion. “Then touch me,” he commanded, another whisper against Derek’s ear. Derek certainly didn’t need any more encouragement to start exploring Stiles’ body with his big hands. Jesus, Stiles was sensitive. He had spots on his back, his stomach, his ass, that made him shudder every time Derek ran his hands over them.

Derek couldn’t think of the last time he’d been so hard. And still fully clothed, at that. Listening to Stiles’ murmurs of “Fuck yesss, touch me, come on,” felt electric, making his dick ache where Stiles was slowly grinding against him, hand braced against the wall, mouth open, eyes closed. Derek may never watch porn again. This is, hands down, the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. And the thrill of being with someone new for the first time made the whole thing utterly overwhelming. 

Stiles took one of Derek’s hands from where it was resting on his hip and slid two of his thick fingers into his mouth. Mouth pliant, but gaze intense, he took Derek’s fingers into his mouth until they bumped the back of his throat, making him groan, eyes rolling back. Derek could barely keep his eyes on Stiles, the sight was almost overwhelming. 

He surged forward, grabbing Stiles behind his head and the small of his back, bringing their mouths together hard and thrusting his tongue into that hot, slick mouth that had just popped off of his fingers. Stiles kissed him back hungrily, shoving Derek’s hand from his low back to his ass, pressing Derek’s thick fingers down hard with his slender ones. Derek could take a hint. He reached his other hand down to heft Stiles up a few inches higher so he was supporting most of his weight with his hands. Stiles gasped at being manhandled into a new position, followed by a broad grin. 

He leaned back a couple of inches, considering. He seemed to make up his mind, he said "Do you like to top? Because I really want you to fuck me. Like, yesterday." 

"Oh hell yes."

Stiles threw his hands in the air as if he'd just won gold. "Yesssss."

He gently smacked Derek's chest, "Take me to bed, big guy. I'm not too classy to get fucked on a couch, but I'm sore from work and I want to get comfy."

Derek was happy to oblige, standing with Stiles still in his arms and then hitching him up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Stiles cackled happily at being unceremoniously hauled off to bed, and Derek thought he saw him throw a celebratory fist in the air behind his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Derek gently dumped Stiles onto his bed, grinning broadly. 

"Have I mentioned how much I love that you can toss me around? I guess those arms aren't just for show," Stiles laughed. He crooked his finger towards Derek, beckoning him in for a kiss, and as soon as he was within his reach, Stiles grabbed him by the hips and yanked him onto the bed next to him, surprising Derek into a bark of laughter.

Stiles swung himself over onto Derek's lap, and before Derek knew what was happening, he'd gone from prowling over Stiles to having the man straddling his hips, slowly grinding against his cock with a mischievous grin. Derek could get used to sleeping with someone who could give as good as he gets. His mind started to wander down that path, wondering if this was going to be a fantastic one night stand, or if it might be something more. 

Then he was promptly distracted from his train of thought when he felt hands on the button of his jeans. 

"Can I?" Stiles asked, pupils big and face flushed with want. 

"Oh shit, please," was Derek's reply. 

Stiles looked him in the eyes while he unzipped Derek's jeans, biting his lip as he grazed his fingers over the stiff denim. And then promptly yanked his jeans halfway down his thighs, shifting his weight so that Derek was pinned against the bed. Stiles paused, checking for a reaction. Derek gave him a small nod, and he must have liked the raw, heated look on his face because he smiled and slowly slid his hands up Derek's thighs. 

"Fucking gorgeous," Stiles murmured. Jesus, his hands looked so small as he wrapped them around the base of Derek's thick cock. And when he began to trail light, teasing kisses up Derek’s thigh, Derek found himself begging, “Please, Stiles.” His eye flashed, and he stopped teasing, stroking his hand firmly up and down Derek’s cock as he dragged the flat of his tongue over the sensitive, swollen head and then sank down on it, his eyes rolling back in obvious pleasure as both men groaned.

"What were you thinking about last night?" Stiles murmured, lips barely brushing against the shaft of Derek's dick, making it jump in his hand. "Did it make you hard just thinking about me coming over tonight? Did you jack off thinking about it?"

"Hell yeah," Derek answered, voice rough, as he watched Stiles stroke him slowly and slide his mouth over his cock over and over, the feeling of his cock rhythmically bottoming out in the back of Stiles’ throat making his breath catch. "Couldn't stop thinking about that photo of you and that fucking popsicle. Thinking about your mouth around my dick, looking up at me just like that." 

"Yeah?" Stiles grinned, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "You liked that, huh?" Stiles batted his eyelashes. Giving his most innocent face, he licked Derek’s cock base to tip as if it were a popsicle on a hot day before he closed his eyes and started to work Derek’s cock into his throat in earnest.

Getting your dick sucked is always nice. But getting your dick sucked by someone who clearly loves giving head is a whole different level. And holy shit, did Stiles seem to love it. Derek was getting close, he realized. He reached out and grasped a handful of Stiles’ hair to tell him he needed a break if he was going to fuck him, but he was distracted by the way the man shuddered at the touch, leaning into it. Derek grabbed his hair a little more firmly when he tried to get his mouth back on Derek’s dick, saying “You still want to get fucked?”

“Yessssss,” Stiles said, coming back to himself a bit. Seeming to produce a lube and condom out of thin air, Stiles was already stripping down and flopping down on his stomach, hips propped up on a couple of pillows. Derek bit off a moan looking at Stiles’ perfect, round ass. In his bed. He ran his hand over soft skin, making Stiles gasp and squirm.

Stiles was already tugging at Derek’s hand, saying “I’ve been thinking about you stretching me out with those thick fucking fingers for days. Please don’t tease.” Derek’s was impossibly turned on at how hungry Stiles was to have even just his fingers inside him. He warmed some lube in his hand and slid a slick finger against Stiles’ ass, pressing against it slowly. But Stiles was already rocking against him, pushing himself down on Derek’s finger and demanding “More, come on.”

He slowly slid another finger around the tight rim of Stiles’ ass, and then listened to Stiles sigh as he relaxed and his finger slid right in next to the first. It wasn’t long at all before Stiles was whining for more, squirming as Derek worked in a third, and then a fourth finger. Derek couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Stiles fucking himself on his fingers, squeezing his eyes tight in a choked off sound of pleasure as he pushed past Derek’s knuckles until he was stretched wide. 

Derek was worried he might come right there without touching himself, just watching Stiles debauch himself in his bed. “Gonna fuck you,” Derek grunted, pulling back from Stiles’ ass just long enough to slide on a condom and work more lube into Stile’s ass with his fingers. 

“If you don’t get your dick in me right now, I’m going to push you down and ride it myself,” Stiles said, wiggling his ass with a mischievous grin. Most partners required quite a lot of warm up as Derek was pretty thick, and tonight his cock felt heavy in his hand, swollen from all of Stiles’ teasing. Even though he’d just watched the man practically take Derek’s whole fist, he still hesitated as he rested the head of his cock against Stiles’ ass, looking at his slender neck, his delicate features, his form utterly dwarfed in every way by Derek. 

And that’s when Stiles took a different tactic. He looked back at Derek with big, round eyes and a sexy pout, and begged in a desperate voice, “Fuck me Daddy, please fuck me, I need your big cock in me right now, I need it so bad, Daddy please.” Derek gripped his ass hard, letting out a sound more growl than moan as he used his whole weight to press his thick cock into Stiles slick hole, inch by inch.

“FUCK. YES,” Stiles yelled, muffled by a pillow. Derek didn’t let up until his hips were flush with Stiles’ ass, the fattest part of his cock stretching the clenching ring of muscle. And then he snapped his hips, fucking Stiles with just the first couple inches of his cock, hard into the mattress. He watched a flush spread from Stiles’ cheek down his neck as he whispered a litany of enthusiastic curses under his breath. 

“How’re you doing down there? Still good? Getting sore?”

“Derek,” Stiles whipped around to respond, eyes dark with lust, “I’m not fucking fragile. Give it to me.” Stiles reached back with one hand to spread his ass for Derek, giving him an even better view of his lover’s ass stretched around his cock. “Fuck me like you want it. Show me. Now.” 

Message received. Derek grunted with want, manhandling Stiles’ into a position where his ass tilted up at the perfect angle, and he pounded into him, one hand with a vice grip on Stiles’ hip, slamming him back into Derek’s brutal pace, the other went to his mouth, shoving two fingers between Stiles’ lips and then fucking his mouth nearly as hard while Stiles groaned and shuddered.

“Teeth. Neck. Bite. NOW.” Stiles managed to get out before he hungrily slid Derek’s fingers back into his mouth and bared his neck for Derek. Biting had never been something Derek’s other partners were into, so he had never given it much thought. But having his partner beg him to mark him like this (claim him, he thought) while they fucked...his body responded before his brain had entirely caught up. He felt the muscle at the juncture of Stile’s neck and shoulder in his teeth, felt his hand slipping out of Stiles’ wet mouth to grasp his dick with a few firm, hard strokes. Stiles threw his head back in a primal groan as he cam, and Derek felt his cock jerk in Stiles’ ass, as if some part of him was trying to mark him there too, condom be damned.

Stiles collapsed on the bed panting, and Derek followed suit, muscles he didn’t even know he had feeling pushed to their limit. Stiles ran his fingers over the teeth marks on his shoulder that were quickly turning into a distinct bruise. He pressed his fingers against it, then gasped and shuddered, and then broke the silence by breaking down into quite a giggle fit.

“So...into the ‘Daddy’ thing, eh? Hot.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” blushed Derek. “...but maybe we should try it again sometime, just to see. For science.”

“Yes, for science,” Stiles laughed. 

They did have to get up to shower eventually (“Holy shit, I'm such a mess! I should just have sex in the shower!” complained Stiles), but they were soon tangled up back in bed, sleepy and satisfied, finding out how their bodies fit together at a more leisurely pace.

“I don’t think my legs work.”

“Sleep, Stiles.”

“Ok, but I’ll warn you, I’ve been told I kick,” he mumbled, already halfway asleep.

As it turns out, that was not a joke. Lucky for Derek, Stiles was more often tucking himself under Derek's chin, aggressively little spooning him in a way Derek hadn't known was possible. Stiles, entirely asleep, had scooted his ass into Derek's lap and reached a lithe arm all the way up to run his fingers through the hair at the nape of Derek's neck. 

Derek took a little longer to go to sleep. He still felt a bit like this was a very nice dream that he'd wake up from any minute. But Stiles was warm and solid, breathing deeply and smelling of lavender...and Derek. Derek pressed his nose into Stiles' hair, burning the moment into his memory as he wrapped himself wholly around him and began to drift himself. 

\-----------------

Later that day when Stiles had headed home to let out his dog and Derek was putting the bedroom back together, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He had to grab the headboard to steady himself when he saw the message: one photo, without comment. Stiles looking up at the camera with big doe eyes, mouth open, and Derek's cock deep in his throat. That sly bastard. He didn't even know he'd had his phone.

"Any plans tonight?" Derek replied.

"Yep!" Stiles answered. Derek's heart sank a bit. "I'm going to try to get this really hot bear to let me tie him down and ride his dick." 

"Fuck." 

"Mhmm. You can take a picture this time."

"I'm going to be so fucking tired for my shift tomorrow."

"You know I'm worth it."

"Hahaha, you know you are, Stiles. See you at 7? I'll cook."

"I'll be there. ;D"

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler-y notes for those who need more trigger info:  
> -Derek initially perceives Stiles as being much too young for him, although clearly not underage. However this is cleared up early on.  
> -Hospital stuff including (I'll try to update this as I go along): a patient passing out,


End file.
